


When There's Nothing Left to Burn

by redfuryy



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfuryy/pseuds/redfuryy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando is fighting and hurting in a war he never asked to fight.  Sergio is discovering what little is left for him back at home.  Cesc is grieving for more than his brother and Gerard is a nationalist without a country that he can believe in.  The year is 1944.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Today is Fernando's last day.

Cesc knocks over Sergio’s bottle of Coke and he watches the fizz spill across the counter top. It disappears over the side of the granite and Cesc apologizes profusely, but Sergio really doesn’t listen.

It’s a quiet afternoon: too hot for a midday kickball game and too cold for a soak in the raised pool in Sergio’s backyard. Cesc grabs Sergio another Coke and bangs it against the counter, but Sergio thinks that the carbonation might make him sick.

Sergio’s mother hovers in from the kitchen. Her city council meeting is canceled (as always) due to lack of interest and her nails don’t need to be retouched until next week, so Sergio knows that the only obligation she has left is to buzz frantically around the house. 

“Don’t worry about it, Francesc,” she exclaims and Sergio knows that she's glad to have an excuse to bother them.

She scoops in between the boys, armed with a half-dozen napkins. Sergio doesn’t have to look at his friend to know that his face is scowling profusely at the use of his full name.

The boys get up to leave as Cesc mutters another quiet apology, but Mrs. Ramos stops them abruptly with a plate of her brownies. Cesc outstretches an eager hand and almost grabs one, but Sergio shoots him a quick look and he retracts his hand. Sergio needs to leave.

“For heaven’s sake, you’re growing boys! I should call up your mother, Francesc. She’ll be worried that her boy is coming down with the flu! Really, I’ve never seen either of you turn down anything I’ve put in front of your nose! But I suppose it’s understandable… with Fernando leaving...”

The boys shrug. Sergio has had this conversation almost a dozen times. His mother has a streak of chocolate across her face and he focuses on it until it bothers him much more than her words.

“Really quite a shame that you boys missed the ceremony, it was beautiful!” His mother places the brownies on the counter so her hands can talk. “You would have loved it, Sese. They brought down that wonderful marching band from the high school and played and of course everyone was tearing up! Especially that poor dear… I can’t quite recall her name, but she’s said to be seeing Fernando? Elayla? Illeya?”

Sergio takes a swig of Coke that is far too large for his mouth. 

“Olalla.” 

“But of course, it was bound to happen sooner or later… Once you turn eighteen, Sese, we’ll have to worry about you! Your father reckons the war won’t last another year… suppose you’ll be alright as well, Francesc. You don’t turn seventeen until December?”

The boys both know that Cesc’s birthday isn’t until next May, but neither of them bother correcting her. His mother takes a seat on the other side of the counter and Sergio hopes that her speech will die down now, with any luck.

He frowns because he can’t remember the last time he was lucky. He fingers a half-finished letter in his pocket. 

\---

It’s night and the weather is much cooler when Sergio swings out his back porch. There are crickets chirping and there’s a certain heavy exhaustion in the air, but Sergio just watches his feet as he walks through the summer grasses. The trail is familiar, and he only bothers to look up when the trees begin to thin out and he’s suddenly a few yards behind Fernando’s small southern house.  
Sergio’s letter is finished now and he’s opening the creased paper and making sure it didn’t smudge in his pocket before he makes his way to side of his house. Fernando’s window is on the right side, and he knocks. He’s been to Fernando’s house hundreds of times and has climbed through the open window almost as often, but tonight, his fists feel stiff against the glass. He knows it’s silly, but he somehow feels like an intruder.

He hears scuffling inside and he doesn’t listen for it, he pretends not to hear, but a shrill female voice accompanies Fernando’s. The window creaks open after some time and he watches his feet.

“Sergio!” Fernando says as if he hadn’t been expecting him.

“Uh, I’m sorry, Fernando,” Sergio says and it’s the first time he’s heard Fernando call him something other than Sese in a long time. “Are you busy? Should I come back later?”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

Sergio stuffs the letter back inside his pocket. 

It’s always cold inside Fernando’s house, even in the middle of the summer. Sergio steps inside through the window and avoids Olalla’s inevitable glance by gluing his eyes to Fernando’s Honor Roll certificates. Fernando closes the window and the room is stuffy with goodbyes.

“Sergio!” Olalla puts on the tremendously false appearance that she’s just now noticed him in the corner. “I didn’t see you at Fer’s ceremony today, were you feeling ill?”

“Um, no. I just… forgot about it,” he lies.

Fernando crosses his arms. 

“Well, you honestly didn’t miss too much… the pastor droned on for hours. And the band was off key the whole time.” Olalla drapes her arms across Fernando’s shoulder. “But I suppose you’ll want a moment to say goodbye?”

She darts out of the room, probably to go bake cookies or cakes with Fernando’s mom. Sergio hears her call something out about the arithmetic tutoring his mother scheduled with Olalla on Saturday, but he ignores it and sits on Fernando’s bed.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Sergio,” Fernando says but Sergio isn’t sure that he believes it. 

“I know.”

“I’ve got basic training and then who knows where they’ll send me,” Fernando tells himself more than he tells Sergio.

“You’ve told me. Probably shipping out to Germany. You’ll take out Hitler yourself, Fer.” 

Fernando giggles and heads towards his closet. 

“Just got it yesterday,” Fernando says as he pulls out a dress uniform that Sergio thinks shouldn’t belong to him because he isn’t a man yet. He whistles low anyways and gets up to examine the fabric between his fingers. “Can you imagine me wearing it? I mean, I’m really going, Sergio! “ 

Sergio stares at the physical training uniform and it’s a weird thought, but he wonders what it would look like if it was painted in Fernando’s blood.

“Scared?” Sergio asks.

“No, not really,” Fernando says and Sergio knows that he’s telling the truth because Fernando has always been the brave one. He’s captain of the track team and he knows how to talk to girls at parties and Sergio can’t imagine him cowering or crying or being afraid of anything.

“Oh.”

“Are you?” Fernando’s voice is quieter but his face is still grinning. “I mean, are you scared for me? D’you think I’ll pull through alright?” Sergio feels like this is a challenge.

He thinks of all the races that Fernando has won without even trying and of the times he’s gone hunting with Fernando outside in the woods behind their neighborhood and of how good a shot he is. He remembers the huge wild boar that hangs on Fernando’s mantle place (Sergio’s mother would never let that thing in her house) that he took down with a single shot through the skull. 

“You’re Fernando Torres. You’re always alright.”

\---

It’s awkward and it takes some time, but the boys exchange a last parting hug before Olalla busts into Fernando’s room again with freshly made cookies. Fernando is smiling and Olalla is smiling and Sergio is smiling but there isn’t anything in the room except for painful waiting.  
Sergio leaves sometime later while Olalla stays to have a final dinner with the Torres’. He runs the whole way and doesn’t stop until his mother asks him what on earth is chasing you, dear? and he’s got a thermometer shoved inside his mouth because she thinks he’s obviously been seeing things that aren’t real.

Olalla will go home that night and cry herself to sleep.

Sergio doesn’t give Fernando his letter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They really do shelter you in this town, don’t they? I'm gay, boys! Known it sense I was twelve and kissing the paper boy across the street... Don’t go run and telling your mothers, though, or I’ll be fired, I'm sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a few changes to the original copy of this chapter, but you won't see anything too significant.

The night falls and the sun rises, just as Sergio doesn’t expect. He wakes up at two in the afternoon the next day because he can’t fall asleep until he is completely sure that everyone else in the town is long unconscious. 

He stares in the mirror for a while, half expecting that he will be different somehow, but his mother calls him down to check his temperature again because he’s clearly showing the same symptoms that all of the Pique kids had before they caught the flu. 

He’s fine, of course, and he sort of lazes about the house for a few hours in an attempt to feel sorry for himself. He doesn’t think about Fernando or about how he’s long gone by now, headed on some train to a small town in Georgia that neither of them have ever heard of. He doesn’t even think about how he’s trying to not think about Fernando: he really just doesn’t think at all. 

\---

“Like I said, Roosevelt’s got it all wrong. We’ll never be able to take out the Japs and the Krauts at the same time… our man power is spread too thin. Say, are you two listening to me?”

“Hm?” 

Neither of the boys are listening. Cesc sits with a stupid grin plastered across his face, as if the boy that is manning the register at Joe’s Ice Cream Parlor is dictating the words of God himself. Sergio is too busy making sure none of his double chocolate ice cream cone is wasted to reply.

“Of course, if he’d bothered to focus on the actual economy instead of running up our debts in a foreign war that we can’t afford, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Cesc is beyond enraptured and it’s annoying. When Sergio looks at the boy, he is reminded of the people that his mother tells him not to associate with. 

“Of course, yeah. We can’t afford it,” Cesc says as he leans his elbows up against the counter and Sergio is quite sure that he doesn’t have a clue what this conversation is actually about.

“What’s your name?” The boy is directing his question to Cesc and not to Sergio, but Sergio doesn’t mind. He focuses on his ice cream.

“Cesc. I mean, Francesc,” he pauses and realizes he is being impolite and then quickly asks him for his name.

“Iker Casillas. Professional ice cream scooper, part time critical theorist.” he says and crosses his arms with a grin. Cesc grins back stupidly and they both stare at each other for a moment in some sort of mutual understanding of the situation or something and Sergio rolls his eyes. He’s really not interested in watching over a hypnotized Cesc today, not after he swore to him that he’d do anything to fuck Sara Carbenero from across the street last week. 

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“Just came in last week. I was hopping back at forth between cities, dodging the draft for a while. I was hoping to get to get off on moral objections, given my Marxist background. But that didn't work. Apparently, no one cares if you're a communist anymore as long as you can handle a gun. It was only just last week that they passed me as someone who was entirely ineligible for the service. Proudest day of my life so far.” Iker is grinning and he tells his story with great animation. Sergio has never seen anyone use his arms to display emotions like this before, and he can’t help but stare at his cheeky grin and white teeth. 

“Wait, how?” 

Cesc’s brother was drafted and serves at a Captain in the army. Cesc’s parents write him letters every day and brag to everyone in Ashburn about his Purple Heart. Cesc thinks it’s all bullshit and just wishes his brother would come home.

Iker points across the counter towards a bulletin board that usually houses the latest happenings and events in Ashburn. Typically, it contains a couple of announcements about the Knitting Club or the next football game, but today there’s a huge image of a sharp looking man grinning through pointed teeth staring straight at Sergio.

“The guy who runs this place wasn’t too happy about me covering up all lost dog posters at first, but he got over it pretty quickly when he realized that I’ll let him get away with paying me less than he pays the rest of the morons who work here. But I think it spruces this old dump up, don’t you?”

Cesc gets up to examine the image further.

“Who is it?” Sergio pipes in for the first time, and Iker stares at him for a minute like he’s a blockhead. Sergio kind of feels like a blockhead, though he can’t explain why.

“That’s David. Fucking handsome, don’t you think?” Sergio nods, though he isn’t piecing together the puzzle, yet. “He's my million dollar wound. Reason I can't serve.”

The boys stare and each other and Sergio wants to punch the answer out of him.

Iker laughs.

“They really do shelter you in this town, don’t they? I'm gay, boys! Known it sense I was twelve and kissing the paper boy across the street... Don’t go run and telling your mothers, though, or I’ll be fired, I'm sure.”

Gerard, of course, picks the absolute worst moment to decide to come barging into the store and Sergio will laugh about this moment much much later. He sets off the bell and causes Sergio to jump clear out of his seat. As always, Gerard comes in the building without apologies for his presence or for any possible intimate conversations that he might be interrupting and instead takes to leaping upon Cesc’s back, ruffling his hair with some sort of animalistic yelp. Cesc is glaring daggers at the bowl in front of him, because his cover of cool has just been lifted. Iker takes a few steps away from the register and laughs in that strange way of his that makes you feel small. 

Sergio's cheeks are still red.

“You were supposed to meet me at my house at six to go to the creek, you big moron! Where’ve you been?” Gerard asks between the soft blows he delivers to Cesc’s stomach. Iker grins and is clearly far too mature and cool to appreciate the way that Cesc is half-heartedly trying to pry Gerard off of him. Sergio wonders how Gerard could have possibly known where Cesc was, but he remembers quickly that Gerard always seems to know where Cesc is. 

“I’m sorry, Gery—" he gasps and tries to pry himself from his insistent grasp, “—but I must’ve—“ Iker doesn’t stop laughing, “—forgotten about the time!” Gerard finally lets him go but his gregarious face is contorted into a wide grin that doesn’t quite seem human. Sergio thinks that Gerard is the epitome of what it is like to smile with your eyes. 

Cesc offers an apologetic grin to Iker as Gerard yanks him out of the seat by the arm, dragging him out towards the door, but the damage is done. Iker waves but there is mockery in his eyes and Sergio is sure that Cesc feels it plainly. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one with a boyfriend around here…” Iker mutters after the door has swung shut, and Sergio grins, even though he knows that he shouldn’t. Now, he is sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that Iker is the kind of person his mother would forbid him from associating with.

“Naw, things just don’t go down like that around here. Gery's mom has planned out his wedding to a girl across the street from him since they were six…”

“And as for Francesc?” Iker asks, and he seems to be mocking Sergio with his eyes.

“Cesc has… he has girls.” Sergio feels uncomfortable once again and he squirms slightly in his chair. His ice cream has been dribbling down the front of his hand and he just now notices it. Iker hands him napkins.

“Shame,” he says wistfully, as if he doesn’t recognize a lost cause when he sees one. Sergio thinks that Iker isn’t dumb and that maybe he’s too confident and sharp for his own good. “And as for you?”

Sergio feels as though he is being accused. He stands abruptly and draws out enough change in his pocket to pay for himself and for Cesc. 

“I really ought to go,” he says coldly and decides that Iker really ought to mind his own business.

“See you next week,” Iker says as though they have arranged a date, and Sergio finds himself nodding just so that he can back away from the counter and out the door without feeling the burn of his inquisitive eyes against his skin. 

\---

He checks the Post Office before he goes home. He doesn’t know why, but he expects something from Fernando even though he’s only been gone a few hours. His promise to send him as much mail as possible already rings hollow in his ears, although he knows perfectly well that it would have been impossible for him to have already sent something.

Even so, he rips up the letter he wrote to Fernando when he gets home. Just in case.

\---

Fernando is very alone. He is the only boy on the train that happens to hail from Ashburn and the rest of the recruits seem to have grown up together because they all have been chattering about how much they would give just too see Mary Higgins from the Cheerleading Squad naked for just a moment. Fernando squirms because Olalla is on the Cheerleading Squad and mostly because he has seen her naked.

The train rattles on for a long while and shakes Fernando from any sleep he might obtain through the night. Finally, when the voices that surround him are finally quieted, Fernando pulls out his bag and begins three letters to his mother, to Olalla, and to Sergio. 

He writes about how the train is fucking cold and how he’s shivering more than after that time Sergio dared him to dive into the creek beside their house in order to obtain what looked like a shiny penny. He writes about how the boys that surround him have obviously never been chastised for speaking disrespectfully about the dainty feminine gender by Mrs. Lister, the notorious Sunday school instructor, the way that Sergio and he have. After a few displaced smiles, he drifts into an uneasy sleep and promises to work on the letters in the morning.

He only finishes Sergio’s.


End file.
